


The Banking of a Flame

by HowAboutThatSnapback



Series: The Inferno of Revolution [3]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Gen, George Washington's going home, Inferno AU, could be Alexander Hamilton/George Washington if you squint, not gonna lie this one kinda hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:55:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,888
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27330820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HowAboutThatSnapback/pseuds/HowAboutThatSnapback
Summary: An Inferno is not meant to be one for the rest of their days unless their life is cut short. George Washington is no exception.
Relationships: Alexander Hamilton & George Washington, Alexander Hamilton & Thomas Jefferson, George Washington & Thomas Jefferson, George Washington/Martha Washington
Series: The Inferno of Revolution [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1881436
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	The Banking of a Flame

_When is an Inferno not an Inferno?_

_When there is no purpose._

_An Inferno is born from purpose. When the need of many is placed on the shoulders of one or they take up that mantle, they become an Inferno whose Will is stronger than any man ought to be. [He] will stop at nothing to achieve their God-given [purpose] [illegible] only victory or death._

_Author Unknown, Cir. Early 1400s_

Alexander Hamilton, in all his reading, knew that once an Inferno accomplished their task, they no longer had need of their Fire. Knowing and seeing, he found, was vastly different.

Having won the war in the Battle of Yorktown, Hamilton never felt more alive, more powerful. His Fire has never burned so brightly as now, and he feels invincible. He drank and crowed to their victory with his fellow soldiers once it truly settled in that they had ultimately won, and the British weren’t tactfully retreating. Filling his mind were visions of his wife and son and their new country; lying with his wife and not having to rise to return to the front one morning, being able to truly watch his son grow and bestow on him lessons Hamilton wished he learned at the same age, and of an America with him being at the helm within the new government. It was beautiful.

He felt sure Washington must have been riding the high alongside his men. It is wasn’t until he first saw him after that battle that he truly realized what it meant to achieve one’s goal as an Inferno.

Word spread that Lieutenant General George Washington would be leading the country in its delicate formative years and Hamilton found himself glad he did not turn down the position of aide-de-camp. It was not long after that he was given the position of Treasurer Secretary. Washington, after the end of the war stayed for a time before going back to Virginia to see his wife. It was there he received word he would be the new leader- or so Hamilton assumed. It was a private meeting in Washington’s office where he saw the man.

“Sir, you wanted to see me,” Hamilton said as he entered the room, dressed to the nines to represent himself as best he could.

Washington looked up at him and smiled. “Hamilton, come sit.”

Hamilton hesitated because- for this moment- he was breathless with shock.

The man’s eyes- as fierce as a roaring wildfire once- were now like a soft candle with remnants of a light that was once all consuming. Had he been told he would see the Inferno General reduced to embers; he would not have believed it. His main purpose- it would seem- had been reached and he had no need to call upon his Fire. He would be remised to say that the Fire was extinguished, for his gaze still held more heat than a normal man’s.

Regardless, the man’s presence became less undeniable and weighted to Hamilton in just a heartbeat. If asked what he felt initially, he would find himself in a rare moment of indecisiveness of how to put his emotions into words. The closest he would come- some years later- would be something akin to mourning the loss of a hero who succumbed to the harsh sands of time until their final demise.

Washington’s mouth twisted with annoyance and the blaze that once suffocated a room was back with full force. “Hamilton. Close the door and sit down.”

Were it not for his own Fire, Hamilton is sure he would have fallen to his knees instantly.

Not one to need an order twice, he closed the door and goes to his chair gratefully. The Fire in Washington’s eyes dulled back into the weak flame that was before he had to evoke a power over Hamilton.

George Washington found that the remnants of Fire remained in his soul for a lesser purpose, but a purpose, nonetheless. He felt less substantial and unstoppable than he had during the throes of war and found this newfound purpose to be not nearly as great.

In time he would come to the conclusion that this is because his Secretaries of Treasury and State were the driving force to what truly build their country and he was the one to keep the peace between two blazing Infernos.

Secretary Thomas Jefferson came into his own Ignition while in France just months before Hamilton reached his. The commanding political forces Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton were beautiful in their oppositions of each other as it brought two varying opinions to Washington’s table, however, when squabbling came into play, he would find his Fire to be of use in reining in his high-spirited Secretaries.

Even now debating over sending aide to France for their own revolution, he finds his Fire building in his chest to be almost excruciating.

He slams his hand on the table with enough force that it immediately begins to sting. “ _Enough!_ ”

Hamilton and Jefferson look over at him and immediately stand down in the face of a fiercer Inferno. This gives Washington a chance to breathe before he dresses them down in front of the entire Congress.

“You are squabbling like children! Until you both can have this debate like civilized men, this meeting is adjourned.”

Hamilton blinks owlishly. “President Washington-”

The intensity in Washington’s eyes is so bright, it almost seemed to outshine the sun. “Not another word, Secretary Hamilton. As I said… _you are dismissed._ ”

When the room empties, he slouches at the sudden loss of power. He feels completely drained in this moment and he wants nothing more than to sleep. Using his Fire takes more out of him than he is ever willing to admit. He can feel it growing weaker with each day and knows his days as leader of this country are coming to an end. He will not be able to keep this up much longer and he knows it in his soul. Congress has not noticed, nor his Secretaries, however, his wife knows. She made note of it not long after his first visit after the war and again a few months ago.

Just a few more months and he will cease to be an Inferno all together.

The resignation letter in his hands was his sign. His inner Flame is but a weak ember that he cannot see being rekindled. These final days would be to get his affairs in order and- as he has been doing- wrap up as much as he can. The next president will be given whatever he could not complete and left to continue on the foundation he had laid down.

He places the letter down and leans back into his chair, eyes scanning the office that had become so familiar to him. He would not be seeing it for the rest of his days, and it would not be _his_ anymore. Part of him would miss the chaos that would bring him as close to the fiery purpose he had during the war, but a much larger part is tired. He looks forward to living out the rest of his days at Mount Vernon side by side with his wife. A simple life not bogged down by war or politics.

A knock on the door rouses him from his thoughts.

“Come in,” he calls, leaning forward to welcome his Treasurer Secretary. “Hamilton.”

“Sir,” he greets with a bow. “You wanted to see me?”

Echoes of their first meeting ring around Washington’s mind. Fitting, he decides, that one of their last official meetings parallels with that of their first.

“Come, take a seat,” he final says, rising to make them drinks.

“Whatever it is,” Hamilton says, his nerves revealing themselves as he settles in his chair, “Jefferson started it.”

Washington chuckles at the familiar excuse. “Relax, have a drink with me.”

He fills each glass with two fingers of whiskey and then places one before Hamilton before he settles back in his chair.

Hamilton’s fiery eyes watch him carefully as he holds his drink but does not sip. “Sir?”

“Thomas Jefferson has resigned,” Washington informs.

The absolute joy on the young man’s face is nearly blinding. “You jest.”

Washington hands over the resignation letter. “The proof.”

The young Inferno laughs with delight. “Surely a cause for celebration!”

Now to break the news.

“I need a favor.”

“Whatever you say sir.” His eyes are still reading the resignation letter as if he wants to memorize it. “Jefferson will pay for his behavior.”

“Hamilton,” Washington groans.

He is not listening. “I’ll write under a pseudonym. He’ll never hold a position of power again.”

“I need you to draft an address.”

A nod. “Ah, now that he’s resigned you can finally speak your mind.”

Washington decides to be blunt. “He’s stepping down so he can run for president.”

“Ha! Good luck defeating you, sir.”

“I’m stepping down… I’m not running for president.”

The horror stricken look on the younger man’s face is enough to prompt Washington to take a sip of whiskey.

“I’m sorry, I don’t believe I heard that right. Do you mind repeating that?”

“I’m not running for president.”

“No. Sir, why?” Hamilton begs, leaning forward to the edge of his seat and setting down his glass of untouched whiskey.

Washington rubs his temple, feeling that this will be a battle of wills greater than he has faced before. Hamilton is headstrong and a full Inferno while he is but a scrap of one. Already he can feel the younger man’s will trying to impose itself onto his own.

“I cannot manage another term. It is best for the country not to get used to a single person running it when we have agreed to democracy.”

“Sir, with Britain and France at war, is this the best time?”

“This is the best time.”

“You have a duty to the people! You must serve,” Hamilton says, eyes flaring brightly enough that Washington is grateful he is sitting. “You could continue to serve.”

Washington drudges up the last of his Will and slams his hand onto the desk, meeting the fiery gaze with his own. “Enough, Hamilton!”

Hamilton’s teeth click audibly as he closes his mouth at the order.

In that moment, the Fire dies completely, leaving behind not even a single, weak ember. He feels weakened immediately and places the glass on the table with shaking hands. He cannot continue on like this. He does not have the Will to lead this country anymore.

And it seems Hamilton has realized this fact. His eyes, when Washington looks at them, hold a mixture of grief and realization. He can see that Washington is no longer an Inferno. He is but an ordinary man again and he will not be able to keep Congress and his Secretaries in line anymore. He is finished.

He takes his glass of whiskey and gulps it’s entirety in two large gulps as if he needs inebriation to come to terms with these facts.

Washington watches with tired eyes and waits for Hamilton to speak.

The young man watches the older for several long seconds before his shoulders droop in defeat and he sighs. “As you wish, sir.”

A warmth of fondness fills his chest as he gives a soft, sad smile. “Thank you.”


End file.
